petekey smut

sticky hair sticky lips

involves the song Michael by franz Ferdinand.
au regular lives no band

There are some things Mikey Way doesn't do anymore, and there are others he's never done. Drinking heavily is firmly into the former category. Singing in public definitely goes into column B.

Neither of those things means he isn't always there for Karaoke Night at the local bar, however. He can nurse one beer all night long these days, and he's never gotten tired of watching his friends make jackasses of themselves (his brother, for example does a killer Bon Jovi that he swears people would pay to see).

And besides, it's not like Pete has the same limits Mikey does. Pete spent his teenage years and early twenties straight edge - almost as many years as Mikey spent getting totally fucking wasted more nights than not. When Pete's a little lit, he gets handsy, loud, affectionate in public. A lot like sober Pete when he's in a good mood, except turned up to ten.

Pete, sober or not, is the kind of person who will always sing in public.

"This one is dedicated to a very special person," he'll say seriously into the microphone as the music starts up. Or just "Mikey Way, this one is for you." Sometimes he mouths "I love you" and blows a kiss. Frank might start gagging next to him, but Mikey likes it. He likes it when Pete massacres Lady Gaga, and he likes it afterwards when Pete comes back to the table and sits on his lap for the rest of the night, licking his ear and whispering "I don't want to be friends."

None of that is the best part of Karaoke Night, though; that comes later on, when they've said goodbye to their friends and headed back to their apartment.

Pete disappears into the bedroom as soon as the door is closed behind them. Mikey sits down on the couch and unlaces his boots, pushes them off his feet to tumble onto the carpet. He scratches the dogs behind their ears and belly until he hears the sound of the same old Franz Ferdinand CD.

Even then, he waits another moment, until he hears Pete call, "Mikey fucking Way, get your ass in here."

"You really know how to keep the romance alive," Mikey says drily, but he goes. Pete's stripped down to his underwear, poking at the stereo. He sets to the right track and turns to Mikey with a wide grin.

"Come and dance with me, Michael," Pete sings along, off-key as always, spreading his arms out wide.

The first time Pete tried to seduce him to this song, when they were first dating, Mikey had laughed out loud. It's ridiculous and over the top and a little too literal, but Pete is all those things. "What?" Pete had said, shrugging. "It's sexy. And it makes me think of you."

It had become a joke between them, and then not a joke anymore. It's a Pavlovian response; Mikey can't hear the song without starting to get hard.

The ring on his right finger, the one Pete gave him when they moved in together, is engraved on the inside. It says only one I'd ever want. Pete is kind of a sentimentalist, too.

He pulls Pete in close to him, resting his palms on Pete's hips. Pete tucks his fingers into the belt loops of Mikey's jeans and pushes against him. He likes this, still being finally dressed while Pete is almost naked, even when the jeans get less comfortable as he gets harder.

Pete kisses him, sloppy and dirty. Mikey spins them around and walks Pete backwards to the bed. When Pete sits down on the edge of the mattress, Mikey goes to his knees. Pete knots his hands into Mikey's hair immediately, twisting the long edges in his fingers and holding him tight. Mikey mouths his dick through his boxer-briefs, a gentle tease.

"Mikey," Pete says. "Mikey."

Mikey pulls against Pete's hands, turns his head and nips at the soft skin of Pete's inner thigh.

"Mikey," Pete says again, and this time it's a whine. Mikey looks up at him curiously, and Pete pulls his hair so hard it almost make his eyes water. "Just fucking fuck me already," Pete says.

Mikey smiles and stands up.

Pete has his underwear off, the lube and condom from the nightstand, and he's repositioned himself on his knees at the head of the bed, all before Mikey's finished stripping. Mikey crawls onto the bed behind him and drapes himself over Pete's back. Mikey's not a tall guy, but he's taller than Pete, tall enough to cover him like this.

Pete turns his head back towards him and they kiss in the awkward angle for a moment before Mikey moves back. He kisses Pete's shoulder and the nape of his neck and then each knob down his spine to his tailbone. He sits back on his knees and rests his hands down on Pete's gorgeous ass.

"Knees farther apart," Mikey says, and Pete shifts on the bed. He lets his head hang down. The song is still playing in the background, on repeat. Come and dance with me, Michael.

Mikey grabs the lube, squirts it into one hand. Pete's as relaxed as he ever gets, and he takes two fingers like it's nothing, melting into the bed. Three, and Mikey hear his groan, the deep gutteral one that sounds like nothing else. Mikey lubes up his pinky carefully, gets all four inside him, and Pete whispers, "Shit."

"Are you gonna come?" Mikey says softly, holding his hand still.

He can't see Pete shake his head, but he can sense the movement from the way his shoulders shift.

"You want my fist?"

"I --" Pete says. There's the sound of a deep breath. "Not now. Not tonight."

"You want my dick?" Mikey says. It's not really a question.

"You smug fucker," Pete says, half-choking on a laugh.

Mikey smiles even though he knows Pete can't see it. He slaps Pete's ass lightly with his free hand and curls his fingers inside him. "You want my dick in your ass."

Pete laughs again, helplessly, as he says, "Fuck, Mikey, just put it in me already--"

It takes a minute to get the condom on, get himself lubed up, and then he's pressing into Pete until he's all the way in, until there's nothing but him and Pete as close as it's even physically possible to be. He thrusts a few times, but it's not quite what he wants. Mikey sits back again instead, pulling Pete back with him until he's sitting on his lap.

Pete moans and rests his head back against Mikey's shoulder. He's told Mikey before that he likes it this position, because of how deep it feels, like he's being split open (but in a good way, he made sure to add). Mikey kisses the side of Pete's warm throat, sucking at the base where his neck meets his shoulder. He keeps his hands tight on Pete's hips, keeping him steady, helping him set the rhythm as Pete begins to raise himself up and down on Mikey's cock.

When Mikey's the one doing the riding, he gets sick of the strain in his thighs awfully quick. Pete's always been a lot more athletic to Mikey, though - which Mikey approves of, since he puts it to such good use.

Pete's got his left hand stretched back, holding on to Mikey's arm for balance, and with his right hand he's jerking himself off. He's making these little grunts every time he bottoms out on Mikey's dick, and it's been a couple of years now (Christ, years) and they're still the hottest noises Mikey's ever heard. He used to wonder if that would ever change; now he's accepted it's probably not going to.

Mikey bites down on Pete's shoulder rather than making any noise himself. He keeps his eyes closed while Pete yells and shakes to pieces all around him. When he opens them again he looks down over Pete's shoulder down the long spread of his chest and stomach, looks at Pete's dick still is his own hand, looks at the strings of come decorating his smooth skin and the dark ink of his tattoos. It's too much, and he turns his head into the soft buzz of Pete's hair and lets himself come.

Pete passes out pretty soon after they're done having sex, totally zonked out as soon as they're cleaned up and he's gotten the covers over himself. Mikey takes care of getting dressed enough to take the dogs out for the night. He gets a bottle of water and leaves it by Pete's side of the bed, then takes the CD out of the stereo and puts it back carefully into its case.

Back in the living room there's a couple text messages on his phone from his brother, so he sits on the couch and texts him back. It's an hour or two later when Pete wakes up again - he can't sleep much longer than that at a time - and he comes out of the bedroom, wrapped in a blanket, and curls up next to Mikey on the couch. He kisses him on the corner of the jaw without a word, and then they watch Aladdin on DVD for the four-hundredth time.